Splintered Destiny
by astral-angel
Summary: Hermione Granger. Harry Potter. A timeturner. A locket. And R.A.B. You have no idea. HBP Spoilers! Part 2 now up.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Splintered Destiny

**Author:** Mauzi

**Category:** Harry Potter

**Disclaimer:** Credit for the wonderful characters belongs to J.K. Rowling

**Rating:** Teen

**Spoilers:** All 6 books. This includes **HBP**. Don't read any further unless you want to be spoiled – in which case, be my guest.

**Summary: **Hermione Granger. Harry Potter. A time-turner. A locket. And R.A.B. You have _no_ idea.

**Notes: **My first post HBP fic. I feel so happy. Also, this will not be a H/Hr shipper fic. I doubt it will have any **real** pairings. The first couple of parts will be a bit slow, but trust me, they're necessary for the fic. I promise, it'll pick up.

**Part (1?)**

/... I must have dreamed a thousand dreams, been haunted by a million screams. But I can hear the marching feet, they're moving into the street. Now, did you hear the news today? They say the danger has gone away. But I can see the fire's still alight, they're burning into the night .../ - **Land of Confusion, **Disturbed, _Ten Thousand Fists_

Hermione Jane Granger was upset, to say the least. She lay in bed, bushy hair fanning out against the pillow, and glared at her ceiling. Her hands clenched into fists around the sheets, and she idly wondered at the rather numerous ways in which she could kill, maim or at least grievously injure one Draco Malfoy. While some of these were undoubtedly crude, she still included them, determined to rub the proverbial salt in as of yet non-existent wounds.

A sound outside her door broke through her musings and had her bolting upright, reaching for her wand. Eyes glittering, she held her breath, squinting through the darkened room at dim light shining from underneath the door. Time seemed to slow to a sluggish pace, yet the pounding beat of her heart seemed to speed up. The contrast caught her attention vaguely, before the slow turning of the knob snapped her attention right back.

She tensed, kneeling on the bed, wand pointed at the door. It occurred to her that she was alone in the dorm, and while Hermione could have counted on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had wanted to stay with Lavender and Parvati before now, mentally she was raising that number to six. While she was sure that it was nobody who wished her harm, because she highly doubted that any Death Eater would sneak in to her room at some ungodly hour, she felt safer with her wand in her hand, stunning spell poised on her lips. Truth was, Dumbledore was dead, and Hogwarts was no longer _safe_ because of those bloody snakes. Her lips curled into a snarl, and when the door swung open, her hand was steady.

"Hermione?"

The familiar voice had her relaxing, because really, where on earth would a Death Eater have gotten a hold of Harry Potter's hair? Suitably assured that it wasn't an impersonator using Polyjuice Potion, she lowered her wand, and clambering off the bed. Looking into dull green eyes, she closed her own, wishing for the days when they held the familiar sparkle.

"I need to tell you something."

Her eyes flew open, the sound of his haunted voice echoing through her. She looked at him, before nodding, leading him to her bed. Leaning against the pillow, she gave a fleeting thought to the distant memory of sleep before motioning for him to continue. Harry hesitated, mouth opening and then closing again as he struggled to find the words. Reaching out, she took hold of his hand, squeezing comfortingly. Looking at her gratefully, stumbling against the grief that threatened to consume, he managed to speak, his voice hoarse.

"Since the beginning of the year, D – Dumbledore," he paused at the name and Hermione's eyes dimmed in grief as he continued. "We, well, he showed me things. About _his _past – Voldemort's – when he was still Riddle, I mean."

The two sat on Hermione's bed while Harry spoke, unheeding of the passage of time, unaware of the slowly rising sun. Harry's words spun through her mind, mixing and jumbling into an incoherent mess. _…riddletommarylovepotionstupidwoman… orphancan'tfeelsorryforhimmonster…soulhorcruxesslytherinheirscuplocketring… potionkillingfirefireareyouawitchornotfirenolocketallfornothingrab …rosmertaandthedarkmarkandmalfoyandthengreybackruinedprofessorlupinslifeandsnape… oh, Harry…_

Her eyes wide, she stared at him, speechless. Harry smiled humourlessly, eyes shadowed, but she could see a hint of relief in them._ How did you keep this all to yourself before? _He shrugged as if he had heard her unspoken question, and of course, maybe he had.

"What do we do now?" Looking surprised, but relieved at her use of the collective, he frowned.

"I don't know. I didn't have a plan, not exactly. But I couldn't keep it to myself anymore." He didn't need to ask her to keep it to herself, it was Hermione, not Lavender or Parvati (not that he would have ever confided in the two). At her questioning look, he sighed. "I didn't tell Ron."

Slightly confused, she shrugged. It was Harry's choice, after all. "We have to find the rest of them."

"I don't know where to start. We thought we'd had the locket, but somebody obviously got there before we did." Hermione nodded decisively.

"Then that's where we'll start. We need that locket, and for that, we need R.A.B. Whoever he is."

"I can't do this without you, 'Mione." She didn't have the heart to admonish him for the use of the hated nickname, but instead concentrated on his earlier statement, scoffing lightly.

"And what, Mr. Potter, may I ask, made you think that you would have to?"

"Ah, but there you are Miss Granger – I need you to think for me!"

They both smiled half-heartedly at each other, comforted by the fact that they could still joke, no matter how feeble their attempts were.

"Right. Er, are we going to be, well, are we telling Ron about this?" Hermione shrugged, looking at him calmly.

"It's up to you Harry." He sighed, lifting his hands to his face.

"I _knew_ you were going to say that." The words, while muffled by the his hands were still audible, and she stifled a smirk.

"I thought _I _was supposed to be the know-it-all?" She merely blinked as he aimed a glare at her before he sighed again, looking slightly guilty.

"I want to tell him, really, I do – only, well, it's Ron." The last words were rushed out despairingly. "This has to stay secret, and well, he might let it slip. You know how he gets."

Biting her lip, she nodded. While she loved him like a brother she'd never had, she knew exactly how Ronald Weasley got when he was upset. Which, when considering the redhead's temper, was quite often. "We're going to have to work fast, then." She looked at Harry, searching.

"You're going to need to write down everything you can remember about the locket and the cup. What they looked like, how big they were, and if he ever said anything about what he thought the others might be. Try drawing them as well."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"I'm going to find out exactly who this mysterious R.A.B is."

"It'll be impossible. How are you going to find someone with only initials to go on?"

Hermione shifted on the bed, looking pensive.

"Well, I have a timeframe to work with. Whoever it is, they had to have been alive after 1955, and born before 1970." At his questioning look, she explained briefly. "Well, it had to have been after he came into power the first time, and before he attacked you."

"But I wasn't born until 1980."

"I have doubts as to whether a ten year old could have stolen a horcruxe from under Voldemort's nose."

"'Suppose you're right."

"And since I'm assuming that R.A.B is a male, all I have to do is look through the yearbooks." Anticipating his next question, she continued. "He was a Hogwarts student, there's no other possibility."

"Hermione?"

"Yes Harry?"

"You're scary."

Silence reigned as the two sat contemplating each other. Finally, Hermione smiled.

"I know."

_Review, please? I'd love to see what you guys think of this so far._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:** I know it's been over 3 months since I last updated, and I am so sorry 'bout that. Last semester was incredibly hectic, and I spent most of my time trying to keep up with my classes. And while I wasn't doing that, I was at work. But now that semester's finished, I finally have time to write again. So, you can expect much more frequent updates from me, I promise. Cross my heart. Disclaimer and stuff is in first chapter. Again, I own nothing except the plot. Woot.

**Old-crow; **Thanks! I was actually worried about my characterisation, especially for Harry.

**Kiki Cabou;** Thanks for the feedback! I did take into account what you suggested, and I've tried it in this part. Hopefully I did it right. I could never get the proper placings sorted. rolls eyes

**Sayyida Jaida; **grins Oh yeah, I have theories. Lot's of 'em. I'll show you mine if you show me your's. :P

**Trishette;** I plead the fifth. I'm not sayin' nuthin.

Also, thanks to **mellyone**, **lord voldemort**, **Hermione-Potter-52036**, **N.E.W.T.S**, **sorcerer'scompanion **and **Rox n Sox **for reviewing! Muchy appreciated!

**Title:** Splintered Destiny

**Author:** Mauzi

**Part 2**

/… you walk on like a woman in suffering / won't even bother now to tell me why / you come alone, letting all of us savor the moment / leaving me broken another time / you come on like a bloodstained hurricane / leave me alone, let me be this time / you carry on like a holy man pushing redemption / i don't want to mention, the reason i know / that i am stricken / and can't let you go …/ - **Stricken**, Disturbed, _Ten Thousand Fists_

"Nothing." The word was hissed under her breath, and anyone who knew the girl sitting at the table would have been stunned to see her slam the heavy book shut, heedless of the brittle pages and broken binding. Harry Potter knew the girl in question very well, but, echoing her frustration, closed his own tome.

"Well, we did know that it wouldn't be easy." He offered the statement half heartedly, if only because he thought that one of the two should be the slightest bit optimistic about their search. And since it was obvious that Hermione wasn't going to cooperate in that respect, he would shoulder the burden with the utmost equanimity.

"Three days, Harry, three days. And we've got nothing." Hermione slumped down onto the book, blearily wiping gritty eyes before burying her head into her hands.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time we've needed to find something and thought we had nothing. Remember Flamel?" Being optimistic, Harry decided, was bloody annoying. Judging from the muffled curse that left Hermione's lips, he was sure that she felt the same. "And we have my drawings, remember?"

"Harry, no offence or anything, but a four year old could have drawn a cup better than that." Hermione lifted her head long enough to smirk at him and continued before Harry had processed her remark. "Plus, the drawings of the cup won't help us much unless we know where it is. And since Hogwarts doesn't seem to keep yearbooks in the library, we can't figure out who R.A.B is. And we need him to find the locket."

Harry scowled and gave up being optimistic as a lost cause.

"Gods Hermione, Hogwarts is closing. Why in Merlin's name are you in the library now, of all times? You did get the owl about exams being postponed, didn't you? And Harry, mate, have you gone bonkers? What're you doing in here?"

Ronald Weasley's voice was pitched at its usual volume, loud and boisterous, even within the confines of the library. Seeing him walk towards their table, Hermione surreptitiously slid Harry's drawings into her bag, hastily knocking in some books from their unread pile in as well. Frowning at the books, she decided against pulling them out, figuring that if she did, Ron would choose that moment to display one of his rare moments of intuitiveness.

"Really, Ronald. This is a library. You do realise that you aren't allowed to yell in here?"

"Bloody hell, 'Mione, you two are the only ones stupid enough to be in here. Even Pince isn't in here!"

Harry winced as Hermione's eyes flared angrily, before sighing at Ron's inability to think before speaking. Everyone knew that if there were two things you didn't do in Hermione's presence, they were using the hated nickname and calling her stupid. Of course, breaking rules was up there with them, but since Hermione had broken too many rules to say much without being hypocritical, she wasn't as bad as she had been in first year.

Ron finally caught sight of the murderous glare on Hermione's face and paled, backing away slightly.

"Um, ok, 'Mione, I didn't mean it, not like that anyway." Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. Six years of being best friends with the girl, and Ron Weasley still didn't have a clue.

"Ron, we'll meet you in the common room, okay? I promised Hermione that I'd help her look for something." The redhead threw him a grateful look and took off, dust swirling in his wake. Hermione smirked, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows.

"So now _you're _helping me look for something?" Harry grinned sheepishly, shrugging.

"Well, I couldn't very well say that we're looking for a way to destroy Voldemort's soul, now could I?" Hermione stared at him, waiting. "And, well, technically, it really _was_ your idea to look in the library."

"Of course it was." She smiled quickly, before lugging her satchel to her shoulders. "Now, c'mon, before Ron decides to see what's taking us so long. Plus, something tells me that we're not going to find anything more out tonight."

"We can't afford to waste any more time Hermione." The brunette nodded sombrely.

"I know. That's why I'm going to ask Prof – Remus, for help."

"What? No, Hermione!" He jumped up, green eyes flashing. "You can't! You promised!"

"Relax Harry; I'm not going to tell him anything." She rested a placating hand on his arm. "All I'm, well, actually, you, are going to do is ask him if he still has any of his old yearbooks."

Harry's shoulders slumped with relief. "Oh."

"We need those books Harry. We need to know who R.A.B. is."

"I'll owl him tonight. Tell him that I want to see them when they were younger."

"If we're lucky, Tonks will be there and he'll be too distracted to think about it too much." She smirked as Harry gagged slightly.

"Hermione, that's gross!" He shivered, trying to banish the ghastly images. "Yuck!"

"Harry, as long as it gets us those books, I don't care what they're doing." She paused, a vaguely disgusted look appearing on her face. "Ugh. I can't believe I actually said that."

"Trust me, neither can I."

"Yuck."

"I believe I already covered that."

"Oh, right."

The two teens stared at each other, laughter bubbling in their throats. Hermione desperately tried to stifle the giggles, suddenly aware that Dumbledore had been dead less than a week and it wasn't right that they should be laughing already. She sobered quickly, but was still unable to stop the shrill laugh that escaped her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

She would _not_ cry. She was _not_ weak. And she would _not_ let this mysterious R.A.B. beat her. "Let's go Harry."

They made the trek from the library to the Gryffindor common room in silence, each lost in their thoughts as the walked slowly. The portraits stared at them dolefully and whispered between themselves. The Fat Lady looked at the two kindly and merely waited for the two to state the password.

"_Bête noire_." The portrait smiled at them sadly as Hermione spoke, silently allowing them to enter. Stepping into the common room, Hermione couldn't help but smile at the sight of Ron sprawled across the couch, arm and leg hanging over the edges.

"Figures." Harry walked over to him and poked him in the chest. Ron shifted and let out a soft snore. Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and summoned a blanket, settling it over the sleeping redhead.

"G'nite Harry." Harry's response followed her up the stairs and into her empty dorm. Whispering a quick spell to lighten the room, she lay down on her bed, staring up at the dull ceiling of the canopy. The books in her bag weighed heavily on her mind, and she gave in to the need to read them, banishing the thought of sleep.

The first two she pulled out of the bag were as useless as all the ones she had read in the library. The third had potential. It was the fourth that had her bolting upright, skin tingling with excitement. Her hands caressed the nondescript cover reverently as she opened the book again, eyes poring over the faded writing.

'_A Brief, but Concise History on the Four Founders of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' _as told by _Nikola Depe, only surviving child of Helga Hufflepuff._

Oh, yeah, she was _good_.

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Review, please?


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